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... cobblestone streets. General Odin sat heavily in a high-backed chair, the weight of the day pressing down on him. The room was quiet save for the distant murmur of voices beyond the stone walls, soldiers and workers alike toiling to restore the war-torn town.

"Bener," Odin called, his voice low but steady. "Fetch Lara. I’d like to have dinner with her."

Bener bowed slightly before departing, his footsteps fading into the corridor. Odin sighed and leaned back, rubbing his temple. ...

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As a princess that could not wield magic, Princess Daphne’s only value to her kingdom was her arranged marriage. The task was simple, but when Daphne gets kidnapped and brought to the cold mountains of Vramid, she realizes that she’s in over her head.

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

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Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles.

“I told you to let them go!” Daphne cried out.

“Yes, I let them go,” Atticus said. Then, his eyes darkened. “To receive divine judgment from the heavens.”

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